


like gold

by misspamela



Category: Triple H (Korea Band)
Genre: F/M, Frottage, M/M, Multi, Pining, Threesome - F/M/M, solve it with a threesome, the longest pwp ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 19:11:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13037583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misspamela/pseuds/misspamela
Summary: She looked up at him, and the look in her eyes spelledtrouble, trouble, trouble. Knowing when Kim Hyuna was In a Mood was a survival trait for most Cube trainees, and he’d known her too long to not feel suddenly like he was very, very fucked.“Hui-yah,” she purred. “Kiss him.”





	like gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quettaser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quettaser/gifts).



> Rachel, you gave me the gift of pure joy in a year where it was pretty hard to come by. I can't thank you enough so uh, here's a lot of porn instead. Happy yuletide, babe.

Hwitaek was exhausted. He was happy -- _deliriously_ happy -- that Pentagon had finally debuted and they had already released two mini-albums and now he was in a subgroup with Hyuna. Honestly, if you’d told him that five years ago, he would have laughed. All of his dreams, coming true. 

But the crushing schedule for their recent comeback and their Japanese debut, combined with the work for Triple H, learning choreo for two different groups, filming all hours, from variety to vlives, keeping up their presence on the fancafe, then the tour...by the time he’d finally landed in the U.S., he’d reached his limits. They were meeting Hyuna in L.A. to watch her wrap up the end of her tour, then they were jumping into shooting the jacket for Triple H’s debut album and shooting some scenes for their MV. Apparently Cube had rented them a house in L.A., which had seemed like something out of a movie and unbearably exciting when he was in Seoul, but now he was just trying to figure out how many hours he had until he could pass out. Hyojong didn’t look any better, stumbling into him from time to time as they made their way to the rental car.

“This isn’t a vacation,” their manager told them sternly after they landed. “You’re here to work.” After being cramped in an airplane cabin for 13 hours, jet-lagged and slightly nauseous, Hwitaek wasn’t going to argue. Los Angeles so far was a blur of springlike warmth in the middle of winter, pastel scenes and palm trees flashing by through the window of the car like he was in the middle of a rap video, and everyone talking loudly in English all around him. 

“I thought my English was okay,” he slurred, half falling asleep against Hyojong, who wrapped his arm around him to hold him steady. “I gotta catch up.” 

“Better than mine,” was all he said. “Get some sleep, hyung.” 

………………..  
They were able to get some sleep at the house, which was, in fact, beautiful and right out of a movie. Hwitaek had an impression of light and air, walking through the house, like there wasn’t much of a divide between being inside and outside. The reds and yellows of the living room bleeding out onto the greens and blues of the palm trees and pool outside, large doors thrown open to catch the breeze. It was lovely and dreamlike, and Hwitaek didn’t give two shits about any of it, as long as there was a bed. 

“Your room is up here,” their manager said, leading them upstairs. “You guys are together in here, I’m down the hall, and Hyuna has her own room on the main floor.” He pointed down. “Some of the crew are sharing the 4th bedroom, and the rest are either local or in a nearby hotel. We’ll all be staying here for a few days while we shoot the jacket, and then we’ll be on location for the MV before heading back to Korea.” They both nodded. Hyojong was gripping tight onto Hwitaek’s sleeve, like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “Okay, boys, gets some sleep. I’ll wake you up in a few hours.”

The room they were sharing had two twin beds and a set of large doors leading out onto a balcony overlooking the pool below. Hwitaek claimed the bed closest to the door and fell on it, rummaging in his carryon for sleep pants. 

Hyojong had collapsed on his bed face-first and fully dressed. “Yah,” Hwitaek said, as loudly as he had the energy for, “get your gross dirty clothes off the bed.” He threw a balled-up sock at him. Hyojong just mumbled and dug his face even further into the pillow. 

“Ugh,” Hwitaek muttered. He couldn’t find his damn sleep pants anywhere so he just stripped to his boxers and dragged himself to the other side of the room. Hyojong was mostly asleep already -- that kid could sleep anywhere -- and Hwitaek had to poke him in the cheek several times to get him to wake up enough to turn over. He still wasn’t fully awake when Hwitaek pulled his t-shirt off, but woke up a little when he started to unbutton the front of Hyojong’s jeans. “Hyung?” he said, his voice slurred with sleep. He looked confused and soft, and Hwitaek felt such a rush of affection for him that felt...odd, as he was in the middle of taking off his clothes. It was strange for a moment, like he was seeing them both from a different angle, through a camera or something, and then the feeling was gone and he was just helping one of his sleepy members take a nap. 

“Good night,” he said quietly, before collapsing onto his own bed and sinking into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
……………….  
They went to Hyuna’s show, which was incredible, and shot some scenes for _Detective Agency_ that night. Hwitaek felt more awake and aware and able to enjoy the L.A. night, but he was still feeling a little off. Hyuna was a breath of home, looking sexy and flawless on stage, blushing and posing for the audience. Hyojong leaned over to him, his breath tickling the shell of Hwitaek’s ear. “I can’t believe we’re in a group with fucking Hyuna.” 

Hwitaek felt a giggle well up from deep inside him. “Unreal, man,” he said. “It’s unreal.” 

They’d known her, of course. Hyojong knew her better than Hwitaek did, but they both knew her well. It was one thing to know her, however, to train with her or look up to her as a senior artist. To go out for the occasional bowl of noodles or cup of coffee, sure, but for someone to look at _him_ , Lee Hwitaek, and say yeah, you’re good enough to be in a group with a star like Hyuna...it was as weird and unsettling as it was to be standing on a street in California with cameras pointed at his face. He looked over at Hyojong, who was looking as shellshocked as he felt. He bumped his shoulder against Hyojong’s and smiled at him. Hyojong looked at him and smiled back. 

Out of view of the cameras, Hwitaek slipped his hand into Hyojong’s, lacing their fingers together. Hyojong looked at him and smiled again, but this time it was a real one, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Let’s go see noona,” he said.

……………………

Hyuna took one look at them, kissed them both on their cheeks, and declared, “You guys look like shit, you need to go to bed.” 

“Wow, thanks, noona,” Hwitaek said, unable to keep the sharp tone from his voice. “You look lovely too, nice to see you.” 

“I better look lovely, my stylists are amazing,” she snapped back. Her face softening, she patted his cheek. “I don’t like fighting. We have a shoot tomorrow and I want you guys fresh, okay? That’s our whole concept, right?”

“I’m the opposite of fresh,” Hyojong sighed. “Noona’s right.” He leaned over and rested his head on Hwitaek’s shoulder, and Hwitaek put his arm around him to keep him steady. 

“We’re going to bond, okay?” Hyuna said, holding out her hand. “No more fighting.” They’d been snapping at each other for months, her and Hwitaek. Yeah, he was star-struck, but he was also busy, goddamn it. She didn’t always realize that he had a whole other group to manage. Hwitaek took her hand and smiled at her. “Yeah,” he said. I just need some sleep.” 

“Sleep and _bonding_ ,” she said. “We’re going to have fun together. I already talked to the managers and they’re giving us some free time.”

Hyojong lifted his head. “Our manager said--”

She shook her head. “Trust me, okay? We’re going to have fun.” 

Right. Fun. After a solid four hours of sleep before their early-morning shoot. Sure.

………………..

Photoshoots were so much more exhausting when you didn’t have to share the time with nine other guys. Usually, Hwitaek had time in between his unit shoots to catch a quick nap or play a few games on his phone, even with having to be the leader and wrangle the guys into some kind of order. This time, he only had a few minutes to grab a snack and a water between his individual shots and the rest of the group shots. The temperatures had gone up from around 18 degrees to 26 in the last day, and Hwitaek thought he was going to die of heat stroke. 

“It’s not that bad,” Hyojong said, shrugging. 

Hwitaek turned and looked at him incredulously. Hyojong was wearing a loose white shirt, completely unbuttoned, showing off his toned abs and chest. Hwitaek had abs too, goddamn it, they were just covered in about five layers of clothing, including a cravat -- a cravat! -- and his makeup was starting to melt. “Easy for you to say,” he muttered, and that little shit was laughing at him, a smile creeping across his face. “Brat,” he said, shoving him in the shoulder. Hyojong just kept smiling, looking deceptively angelic under his parasol. 

“Look at noona,” Hyojong said, nodding toward where Hyuna was taking her individual shots. _She_ wasn’t wearing too many clothes, of course. _She_ didn’t look hot or tired or jetlagged or irritated, even though she’d been out there for both of their individual shoots as well as her own, coaching them through it. She looked bright and fresh, with sparkling eyes and an easy smile that she flashed at everyone, not just the camera. She was, in that moment, under the California sun, with her long legs and the glittering reflection of the pool water playing across her skin, the most beautiful woman in the universe. Hwitaek would have bet all his money on it. 

He realized, a second too late, that he was staring. “She’s a pro,” he said, somewhat lamely. 

“We’re pros now too,” Hyojong said. “Don’t forget.”

Hwitaek thought of the three tracks he’d stayed up working on last night, the 18 texts from Cube management that he’d gotten between falling asleep and waking up, and the dream he’d had about crying naked on Weekly Idol. “Yeah, I haven’t forgotten,” he said.

……  
That night, as promised, they had some free time. “I told them we needed to develop our chemistry,” Hyuna said, shrugging, like having the star power to change a shooting schedule wasn’t a big deal. “We do,” she said, looking directly at Hwitaek. He felt a twinge of discomfort. He hadn’t ’t meant to cause any friction on the team, and he wanted everything to work between them. It was just that...he was trying to be a leader and she was trying to be a leader, and she was just so damn overwhelming and intimidating sometimes. He was trying to keep Pentagon afloat and Triple H afloat and her presence was like a tsunami, washing everything else in his life aside. He just couldn’t help trying to resist her at times. 

It was impossible, though. He’d never been able to resist her. 

They were lounging in an empty room upstairs that had been converted into a makeshift dressing room. A couch was pushed against one wall to make space for racks of clothes. Makeup kits were piled neatly near the door, labeled with each stylist’s name. Hyuna had convinced the staff that they needed to use the room for team building, but really, they’d just grabbed some bottles of wine and drank and talked about work for hours. 

Actually, it was pretty decent team building. 

“Can you believe I get to kiss you, noona?” Hyojong laughed. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were shining and he looked honestly pretty adorable. “Maybe we should practice.” He wiggled his eyebrows. The idea sent a weird jolt in Hwitaek’s stomach. They were going to look so pretty together, the two of them, kissing. He couldn’t...now that he was thinking about it, the image wouldn’t leave him. 

“Do you remember the first time you kissed me, Hyojongie?” Huyna teased, laughing behind her hand. Hyojong hung his head and groaned. Hwitaek was curious despite the slight twinge of discomfort he felt. It was hard, sometimes, being the outsider among friends. And what did _first time_ mean? Had they kissed again? Were they...a thing? He pushed that thought away, and shoved the uncomfortable feeling deep down into the pit of his stomach. 

“Oh now you have to tell me,” Hwitaek said, trying to keep his tone light. Hyuna leaned into him and snuggled down, cuddling a pillow. She’d have looked like a kid getting ready for storytime, if it wasn’t for the glint in her eye. He relaxed, putting his arm along the back of the couch. Not around her, really, but close to it.

“I was _sixteen_.” Hyojong whined into his hands, his voice muffled. He sighed, sitting up. His fair skin was tinted pink, the flush spreading right down his neck. “I was sixteen and noona was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.” 

“Excuse me, _was_?” She threw the pillow at him and he batted it away easily, laughing. “My apologies, Hyuna-ssi, you’re still the hottest.” 

He leaned back, smiling at them both shyly through his hair. “I was sixteen and I had the biggest crush in the world and I was a skinny trainee--”

“With acne,” Hyuna pointed out.

“Yeah. Thanks, noona. Thanks a lot. With _acne_ \--”

“He kissed me in the practice room,” Hyuna giggled. “I was trying to show him a routine, and he just went for it.” She let her head rest on Hwitaek’s shoulder, her hand playing up the inside of his thigh. 

He shivered, and tried to cover it by taking another sip of wine. “Was it good?” he asked, trying for casual and probably missing by a wide margin. 

“Noooooo,” they both said at the same time, laughing. Hyojong had one hand over his face and the other was waving wildly. 

“I hit him in the neck,” Hyuna said. “And pushed him.” 

“I deserved it,” Hyojong said, sighing again. “I don’t think I kissed another girl for three years after that.”

“Awwww, so cuuuuuute, Hyojongie,” Hwitaek cooed. He leaned off the couch to pinch his cheek. “And now look at you, all grown up, our little maknae.” 

“Ugh,” Hyojong said, crawling up on the couch. “I miss Wooseok.” He flopped across them both, stretching his arms up and flinging his feet over the end of the couch. Hyuna squawked, but made room for him, letting him rest his head on her lap. Hwitaek reached down to play with his hair, letting the soft strands spill through his fingers. 

“I’m not letting you kiss me again in public without practice,” Hyuna said, poking Hyojong in the cheek. “How do I know you won’t drool on me again?” 

“You _drooled_ on her?” Hwitaek giggled. He took another swig of wine. “That’s pretty bad.”

“Hey, you kissed that one girl, what was her name, Jinsoo?” Hyojong said. He tipped his head up so Hwitaek could scratch his scalp.

“Yeah, and did she complain?” Hwitaek asked, tugging gently on his hair. Hyojong shivered. He always loved having his hair played with. 

Next to him, Hyuna started laughing. “Oh my god, that was _you_?” She tipped her head into his shoulder, muffling her laughter. 

“Wait, what?” Hwitaek asked. He remembered Jinsoo. She was a trainee, a dancer who was way hotter than he was but had been impressed by his voice. She’d stopped by the studio late, he’d showed her some tracks on his laptop, and they’d ended up making out for over an hour. She never spoke to him again for some reason, but trainee life was weird and there was always the paranoia of getting caught. 

“She told everyone you made out, touched her boob, and cried,” Hyojong said flatly, but Hwitaek could see him fighting the smile, that little shit. 

“ _Cried_?” Hwitaek said. “Wow. Wow. Untrue.”

“Are you calling Lee Jinsoo a liar?” Hyuna asked, her voice dripping with innocence that Hwitaek didn’t buy for one second.

“Uh, yes.” Hwitaek said. “I really am. Oh--oh.” He bit his lip, remembering. 

Hyojong’s eyes popped open. “You didn’t.” 

“I didn’t cry because I touched her boob,” Hwitaek said indignantly, “but I was talking about this song I was writing and I may have gotten a little...emotional?”

Hyojong started shaking with laughter. “Wowwww, hyung,” he said. “Embarrassing.” 

Next to him, Hyuna had sat up straight. She was giggling behind her hand, her eyes sparkling. “Poor Hui-yah,” she said, reaching forward to touch his face. Hwitaek stilled, unsure of what to do. She leaned forward, still smiling, and kissed him directly on the lips. It was brief, just a quick press of her soft lips against his, half-open in surprise. He tasted the cherry lip balm she was wearing, felt the tackiness of it against his own mouth. It was stunning, even though she didn’t really seemed to mean it. 

She was saying “See, girls don’t bite,” and making some kind of joke, but all he could think about was her _biting_ , and there was Hyojong, not laughing, watching them both with dark, sleepy eyes, and he just didn’t know what to do with his face or his hands or anything else. He must have looked like a fish, shocked and gaping, while his world shifted subtly on its axis. 

“Early day tomorrow,” Hyuna said, stretching. 

“Yeah, we should head to bed.” Hwitaek said, only stumbling a little over the words. He gently pushed Hyojong off his lap, sending him sprawling to the floor, then offered him a hand up. “Let’s go.” 

They were just joking. It was a joke, like skinship between members. And yet Hwitaek fell asleep tasting cherry on his lips and, more surprisingly, remembering the silk-soft feel of hair slipping between his fingers. 

……………..  
The next day, they did a few “candid” type shots of them shopping in L.A., trying on silly sunglasses, pointing at stores, smiling at each other. Hwitaek was still a little unused to it, and Hyojong was doing the thing where he didn’t know what to say so he clammed up, but Hyuna kept them laughing by saying hilariously raunchy things under her breath when it was just a visual shot, or trying to trip them as they walked down the street. Eventually, the cameras just became part of the bustle of the street around them, and it really did feel kind of natural, pointing funny things out to each other, eating ice cream, cracking jokes. It was the easiest day so far, and Hwitaek could almost pretend he lived here. He was Hwitaek Lee, American college student, hanging out with his friends on a day off. Skipping classes? Yeah, skipping classes to shop and joke and flirt. 

It was so alien to his entire existence that it gave him a weird little swoop in his stomach to think about it. He felt so out of step here, like the sun and the strange ocean and the bright pastels and the palm trees were another universe, one where he could step out of the world he’d created for himself, just a little bit. He indulged the fantasy, that Hwitaek Lee fantasy, for just a few minutes and then noticed the cameras all over again and laughed to himself. Yeah, it was definitely just a fantasy. He didn’t even _want_ that -- he could have gone to university, his parents would have been thrilled -- his music was the most important thing to him, but there was something about stepping out of the world for a moment that made him really reflect on things. His life. His choices. 

“Hyung, you’re going to hurt yourself thinking that hard,” Hyojong said, elbowing him in the ribs. 

“Someone has to think hard enough for the both of us,” he replied, sticking his finger into Hyojong’s ear. Hyojong batted him away, laughing. “I think we’re wrapping up,” he said, nodding toward the PDs, who were talking to each other. Hyuna had already slowed down and was tapping away at her phone. 

Sure enough, the lead director walked up to them and said, “I think that’s it for the day, guys. We’ve got dinner in about an hour or so.” He shaded his eyes and looked down the street. “We’re going to grab some interstitial shots of the ocean and some of the surrounding buildings and then we can head back for dinner.”

Hwitaek was hungry, and food sounded really good, but he was somewhat reluctant to go back there. Maybe it was that fantasy, lingering in his mind. Hyuna came up to them, wrapping her arms around Hwitaek from behind. “Time to go?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” he said, and he must not have kept the reluctance out of his voice, because she squeezed him briefly and said, “PD-nim, can we hang out while the crew gets their last few shots in?” Hwitaek could hear the smile in her voice. “The boys and I want to shop.”

“Uhhh, sure,” the PD said, clearly distracted by the fading light. He checked his watch. “How does 45 minutes sound? We’ll be back to pick you up right here.”

“Perfect,” Hwitaek agreed quickly.

“Nice, I want snacks,” Hyojong said, stretching. “I’m starving.” 

“Let’s go,” Hyuna said, grabbing them both and pulling them toward the row of stores.

After buying some cheap sunglasses and some postcards, they wandered around until they found themselves in front of a small storefront. The signs were very clear that this was a store for...well, it sold weed. 

“Have you ever tried it?” Hyuna asked, eyeing the front of the store. A guy was standing out front, a white guy with ratty-looking braids and a big hoodie. He was smoking a joint, unbothered by their stares. It was just so weird that you could do that in public without the police bothering you. 

“Nah, too worried about getting caught,” Hwitaek answered, but he found himself reluctant to move. It was just so completely foreign, this store with ads for marijuana like it was beer or something. Pictures of pretty girls in skimpy clothes holding up the merchandise like they were in any other store selling alcohol back home. 

“Yeah, me neither,” Hyojong said, shrugging. “I just imagined my mom finding out.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and peered through the windows. “Always kind of wanted to try it once, though,” he said. 

“Me too,” Hwitaek said. “It’s supposed to be better than alcohol, I guess? I don’t know. I guess I’m curious.” He shrugged. “Not curious enough to fuck up my career back home, but. Curious.”

“I tried it once,” Hyuna said, her lips quirking up at the memory. “A few years ago, on tour.” She laughed. “I was overseas and feeling, I don’t know. Frustrated. Something.” She shrugged. “It’s weird. Kind of fun. You get more messed up on liquor, honestly, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal back home.” 

They all stood there, glancing at each other, shifting from side to side, not leaving by some unspoken agreement. Hwitaek wasn’t going to be the one making any suggestions, not while he was Pentagon’s leader. But he kind of hoped... As if he’d read his mind, Hyojong grabbed his hand, tugging him forward. “Hyung, can we go in?”

It was silly, to be worried. This was a perfectly legal store selling a perfectly legal product. They were all well above legal age. “Yeah,” he said, sounding more confident than he felt. “Why not?” He looked over toward Hyuna, but she was already pushing her way through the door. 

Inside was...disappointingly boring. It looked kind of like a convenience store. There were shelves of snacks and different pastries, all with marijuana leaves on the labels. Some looked really classy, like the kind of thing you’d get in a fancy bakery, and some looked like a lump of chocolate hastily wrapped in a baggie. There was even what looked like pet food or pet products? Hwitaek was having a hard time reading all the different fonts on the bag, but there were definitely dogs and cats on the front. There wasn’t any actual weed in sight. 

“Hello!” The woman behind the counter waved at them. She was also white, with longish hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her hair was mostly gray, and she was wearing a button-down white shirt over a pair of baggy jeans and comfortable clogs on her feet. She looked like she could be someone’s grandma. 

“Hi,” they all chorused back. 

“What are you looking for?” she asked again, then launched into a stream of English that was a little difficult to follow, but she seemed to be describing various items in the counter in front of her. A sales pitch. 

“Sorry,” Hyuna said in English, hesitantly. “I don’t speak English.” She held her hands up. “Sorry,” she repeated. 

“He speaks,” Hyojong said, pulling him forward. The little shit. 

“Why do I need to say anything?” Hwitaek hissed in Korean. “We’re not buying anything, are we?” He smiled and waved at the woman. 

“I don’t know, are we?” Hyuna asked. She was peering in the display case. “These chocolates look nice.” 

“We...we could,” Hwitaek said, looking at Hyojong. 

Hyojong shrugged. “I’ve heard that it’s less of a hangover than liquor.” 

Well, fuck it. Fuck it. Why not. It was never going to happen back in Korea and they had about ten minutes before they had to meet the manager and...well, when would he ever have the chance again? 

“Hello,” he said in English to the woman behind the counter. “We want, for us,” he gestured between them. “Something nice. Easy? Soft?” Ugh, somehow his English classes had never covered buying weed candy. “Candy,” he said. “But we’re new. First time.” 

“I need to see some ID, honey,” the woman said. She pointed at the sign. YOU MUST BE 18 TO BUY THESE PRODUCTS, it said. “Ah, ah, okay,” he said, holding up a finger. 

“ID,” he said to the others. “You need to prove your age.” As they started digging in their bags, the woman said, “Where are you from?” 

“Korea,” he said. “We’re Korean singers. Shooting a music video.” He offered her his passport, but she was already shaking her head. 

“No, honey, not like that.” Through pointing and slow explanation, she explained that apparently you needed some kind of medical certification from a doctor. He explained to the others, stumbling over the words. He felt stupid and embarrassed, that he’d gone all this way, made this decision, and...well, now they were cutting the time close and they might get in trouble for a moment of rebellion that didn’t happen. 

The woman behind the counter looked at him and sighed. She reached out to pinch his cheek and wow, yes, she suddenly reminded him of his grandmother back home. “Can’t resist a pretty face,” she said. “Smile, honey. Don’t look so sad.” She reached under the counter and pulled out a chunk of chocolate. “On the house,” she said, and he had no idea what that meant, so he just kept looking at her. Was he supposed to take it? “It’s a sample,” she said slowly and loudly. “I can’t sell it, but I can give it, okay?” 

_Oh._ He reached out and took it from her. “Thank you,” he said. 

She ruffled his hair. “Terrible what’s going on over there in Korea,” she said, shaking her head. “Just terrible. You kids stay safe.” 

Hwitaek wasn’t about to correct her geography, just thanked her again, as did the others. Hyuna took the chocolate from him, shoved it in her purse, and smiled. “My room tonight,” she laughed, as they ran for the camera crew’s van. 

…..

Dinner felt interminable that night. Hyuna was with their manager most of the night, smiling and chatting as she picked at her plate. Hyojong ended up hanging out with one of the PDs he’d become friendly with, and Hwitaek got into a deep discussion about the historical significance of memes with a stylist, one of the locals. 

As far as company dinners went, it was a good one. He could feel the energy of the group, that positive artistic energy, and he just knew that they were making something special here. The food was good, catered from someplace in Koreatown where all the other idol groups went when they came through town. There was beer and rum drinks and even some soju. It was a great party. 

It was a great party that was never, ever going to end. 

Finally, after everyone had left and everyone else had gone to bed, they ended up in Hyuna’s room. Eating the candy was...oddly anticlimactic. It just tasted like chocolate and caramel, like any other candy. Nothing special. They all looked at each other and burst out laughing. “This is silly,” Hyojong said. “You guys want to watch movies while we wait?”

“Yeah, let’s snuggle,” Hyuna said, flopping on the bed. She patted the bed with both hands on either side of her. They both crawled onto the bed as she reached over and grabbed her ipad from the bedside table. “I’ll even let you boys pick,” she said, pulling up Netflix. 

…………………..

 

Everything felt slow and wobbly and vague, like time was stretching a little around them. He could see why people sometimes felt paranoid when they were stoned. If he was out in public or around other people, he’d probably be worried about what his face was doing or something. But here, on this gigantic, weirdly soft bed, surrounded by his members, Hwitaek just felt safe, like he was sinking into a warm cloud. The strangeness of the mattress and the light and the noise outside all converged into an otherworldly moment. His homesickness was transformed into something like awe. 

“This is a nice cloud,” he said, because it really needed to be shared. 

Hyojong started to giggle and tucked himself into Hwitaek’s side. Hwitaek noticed how sensitive his own skin was. He could feel the shift of his own clothes, the press of Hyojong’s body against him, the warmth of his breath against his neck. Hwitaek slid his arm under Hyojong’s shoulders and pulled him closer. That was so much better, having that firm heat and pressure up the side of his body. It anchored him. The warmth was everywhere, settling in his stomach in a way that reminded him of being turned on. 

Wait, maybe he was a little turned on.

Just as that startling thought occurred to him, pushing its way through the fog of his brain, Hyuna rolled closer and tugged his arm from behind his head, putting it around her as she draped herself over his other side. Hwitaek’s hand dropped down and landed on the curve of her waist, bare from where her t-shirt was riding up. Hwitaek froze. He should move his hand, that was the polite thing to do. But her skin was so warm and so incredibly soft and it had been a really, really long time since he touched a girl. 

She must have sensed his hesitation, because she grabbed his hand and held it down, pulling it tighter around her. “Mmmm,” she murmured. “This is nice.” She looked up at him and giggled. “You’re so tall,” she said, which was a complete lie, hiding her face to laugh into his shoulder. 

“But...we’re lying down?” he said, and that set her off into another round of giggles, her body shaking against his. She felt so small but sturdy, her body shaped by years of dancing. He was used to physical affection with his members, all lanky boys with muscles and stubble and, quite frankly, body odor. Feeling the curves of her under his hand was both foreign and profoundly, profoundly erotic. He shifted, trying to ignore how hard he was getting just from this. 

Hwitaek turned his head and nuzzled Hyojong’s hair, trying to distract himself. His hair was so soft, even with the repeated bleaching. It always smelled faintly chemical, but it was silky and smooth against his face. “Dawnie,” he said affectionately, getting strands of his hair caught against his lips. He could feel Hyojong shift closer, feel the hard li nes of his body underneath the sliding fabric of his clothes. Hwitaek had fallen asleep with him a hundred times through the years, in the back of the practice room, in the studio, at the dorms, in the backs of vans, even on the ride to this house. But this felt different. He wasn’t just one of his members (one of his _favorite_ members, if he was allowed to play that kind of favoritism in the privacy of his own mind), he was hard muscles and easy grace, someone who inhabited their body fully, and he felt, in that moment, that Hyojong was as foreign and erotic and sensual as Hyuna was. 

He wasn’t any less hard, and he was getting really, really confused. 

“I like you two together,” Hyuna said, petting them both on their cheeks. “So pretty.” 

“Not as pretty as you, noona,” Hyojong said, in his greasiest voice, sitting up to leer at her before dropping his head back down to Hwitaek’s shoulder with a thump. 

“Ew,” she said, and Hwitaek could only see the top of her head, but he knew from the tone of her voice that she was pouting. She looked up at him, and the look in her eyes spelled _trouble, trouble, trouble_. Knowing when Kim Hyuna was In a Mood was a survival trait for most Cube trainees, and he’d known her too long to not feel suddenly like he was very, very fucked. 

“Hui-yah,” she purred. “Kiss him.” 

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the top of Hyojong’s head, nothing different from what he’d done a hundred times before. Dawnie looked up at him, his expression shadowed, unreadable. He looked intent. Less stoned than Hwitaek felt. Hot and sharp and present. Hwitaek couldn’t stop staring at him. 

“No,” Hyuna said, wrapping herself around his back, her lips brushing his ear. “ _Kiss_ him.”

Hwitaek froze. His eyes flicked down to Hyojong’s mouth, down to where he’d caught his lower lip in his teeth. Hyojong was still staring at him with that sharp, hot look, but Hwitaek couldn’t make himself do it, couldn’t lean forward and bridge that gap. He didn’t want to be the one to make things weird, but was it weirder to kiss him or not to kiss him? Unsure, he tipped forward, still deciding, but Hyojong made the decision for him, surging up to meet him halfway and mashing their lips together. Hwitaek made a startled noise, putting his hand up to cup Hyojong’s jaw, holding him still as he kissed him deeper. 

He’d...he’d never kissed a guy before. It was so different and not different at all, Hyojong’s stubble rasping under his hand, his body so familiar and so strange next to him. He felt harder than the few girls Hwitaek had kissed, harder...everywhere. It wasn’t any less arousing than the times he’d stolen kisses from girls at school or the one time he’d “dated” a female trainee for a few months. He still wanted to put his hands all over the person he was kissing, to get closer. Hyojong -- one of his members, _fuck_ \-- was making helpless little noises in the back of his throat and shifting against him as they kissed, and it was absolutely messing with his head. 

Another pair of lips kissed the back of his neck and _holy shit_ , how could he have forgotten that Hyuna was there? “So pretty,” she said again, and he couldn’t take it anymore. It was hot, it was so hot, easily the most erotic experience of his life to date, but it was also really, really overwhelming. The room felt stifling and sticky all of a sudden, the pressure to be...hot or sexy or whatever was just too much for him. Were they all going to have sex? The idea seemed both unattainably perfect and terrifyingly close. He felt like, if he said yes to it right then, it would happen. He was too stoned to figure out how he felt about that, beyond being more turned on than he’d ever been before. He wanted to turn around and kiss Hyuna, taste her mouth and her neck and her breasts, bury himself in her. Terrifyingly, he wanted to do the same to Hyojong, to bite and kiss his throat, to touch him like he touched himself. He wanted...that. To feel that, what another dick in his hand felt like, and he had absolutely no idea what to do about it. 

He could feel his muscles starting to tense up and the others must have sensed it too, because they both started to pull away. “I’m dizzy,” he said, because it was the first thing he could think of. It wasn’t a lie. 

“We should probably get to bed,” Hyojong said. ‘We have an early morning.” 

And just like that, the moment was broken. Hyuna kissed them both firmly on their cheeks. “You need your rest,” she said, slightly admonishing, as if she wasn’t the one calling them _so pretty_ just a minute ago. “You don’t want to get sick.”

“Uh,” Hwitaek said, because that was all he was capable of at the moment. “Yeah.” 

He and Hyojong headed back to their room, trying not to stumble on the stairs, which seemed like they were shifting slightly out of the way. “Harry Potter,” Hwitaek whispered, semi-hysterically, and Hyojong slipped on the stair above him, giggling. 

When they finally got into their room, Hwitaek tried to settle into bed, but it felt strange, all alone. He was still high, the darkness pulsing a little around him, and his mind kept chasing itself, thinking of hands and lips and touches and _so pretty_ whispered into his ear. He was wishing, a little, that he’d had the guts to stay, to push past that final barrier. He’d be getting laid right now. Getting really, really laid, and he couldn’t help regretting it even as he knew that making that leap was just beyond him at this moment.

There were some kind of insects outside making noise. Insects or frogs, he wasn’t sure. It all sounded a little strange, off enough that it was messing with his head. He tried to focus in on Hyojong, asleep in the other bed. He’d been falling asleep to the sound of his fellow trainees’ breathing for years -- it was a little touch of home. 

But Hyojong wasn’t sleeping. He was shifting in his bed, like he couldn’t get comfortable, and Hwitaek was about to call out, maybe say something about the mattresses, when he heard how Hyojong was breathing: harsh and low, like he was trying not to make too much noise, and the shifting-rustling sound was oddly rhythmic -- oh. Oh. 

It -- it happened. It happened a lot, as a trainee. You pack teenage boys on top of each other in bunk beds for years and restrict both their free time and access to girls, and you hear a lot of jerking off. A _lot_. It was a fact of living in close proximity, and the rule was that you just pretended it wasn’t happening, unless you wanted to give the other guy tons of shit about his weird noises or whatever. It was no big deal. 

Except Hwitaek was ten years older than that, and so was Hyojong. They weren’t horny teenagers anymore, impatient to get off as quickly as possible under the covers. This felt different, after what had happened earlier. His brain spun in circles, listening to the little gasps and bitten-off noises that Hyojong was making. _Fuck_. Hwitaek could tell that Hyojong was trying to be quiet, but he’d get too into it, his breathing would speed up, and there would be these tiny, soft, rhythmic whines that sped up and then stopped again, as if Hyojong realized he was being too loud. 

Hwitaek could picture it: Hyojong’s hand on his cock, speeding up and slowing down again. Teasing himself to almost nothing because he was getting too close, too loud. Without him fully realizing it, Hwitaek’s hand started drifting down, grazing over his nipple, fingers stroking softly over the taut skin of his abdomen. He shivered. Was he really doing this? God, he was so hard. He hadn’t realized it before, his mind was such a mess, but he was really fucking hard, his dick straining against the soft cotton of his boxers. 

Fuck it. He’d been one of those horny teenagers once. 

He let his hand drop and palmed himself through the cotton, shuddering. He drew in a sharp breath and he heard Hyojong freeze across the room. Silence. No movement. Maybe he was the one making it weird, but now that he’d started, he didn’t want to stop. The dizzying and swirling thoughts and feelings had coalesced into a warm pulse of arousal deep in his gut. He could hear his own breathing echoing in the room, harsh and ragged, not even trying to pretend it was anything else. 

After a long moment of listening to himself breathe, Hwitaek heard Hyojong moving again, just the rustling, slow but not stopping. Hwitaek felt himself relax into it, stroking himself gently at first, teasing a little. It felt so good on his oversensitized skin. Tightening his grip a little, he sped up the pace just enough to tease. It was a little too dry and a little too quiet, because he was trying to stop himself from really getting into it and moaning too loudly, but it was so goddamn intense. His face was flushed and hot, and he just kept thinking of Hyojong’s body pressed up against him, his mouth opening under his. Hyuna against his back, her breath -- oh _god_ , he remembered now -- her breath had been hitching in his ear and she’d been squirming a little, in a way that Hwitaek now recognized as arousal. Her soft breasts rubbing against his arm and his back, the smell of her hair, her thighs as hard as Hyojong’s, but somehow much softer...and somehow he had turned her on, _they_ had turned her on. 

His dick jerked in his hand at the thought and Hwitaek pressed his head into the pillow, his hips straining up in the air. He could hear Hyojong now, a muffled little _uh-uh-uh_ echoing in Hwitaek’s ears. He could hear the little moans start to speed up, and there was a little desperate whine tacked on to the end of each noise. That must mean he was close -- god, he sounded so _close_ , and Hwitaek wanted to throw the covers off and cross that five feet between them, kiss him again, drinking in those tiny sounds until Hyojong came all over his --

His orgasm hit him like a freight train, shocking in its speed and intensity. Hwitaek’s heels dug into the mattress as he came all over his boxers and the nice bedspread, unable to hold back one long, low moan. Across the room, he heard Hyojong choke, hold his breath, and groan softy, his voice even more muffled than it had been before. Was he hiding his face in his arm? His pillow? 

Hwitaek lay gasping in bed. He was suddenly exhausted. And confused. Really confused. But whatever kind of sexuality crisis he was having was going to have to wait until the morning -- all he could do for now was mop up the mess with his own boxers and roll over to sleep.  
…………………………………..

 

The next morning, Hwitaek woke up with a dry mouth and his brain felt all fuzzy. The light was streaming in through the window. He’d forgotten to close the windows when he went to bed last night, he thought, not entirely awake yet. 

Oh, right. Last night. That -- all that had happened. He was suddenly, startlingly awake. And gross. Really gross and sweaty and sticky. Okay, deep breaths. He was a professional; he had a full day of work ahead of him, and he could deal with things one at a time. Shower first, and then...coffee. Yes, coffee. Some water. Vitamins. Take care of his body, and his mind would follow. Because right now his mind was absolutely panicking and that wasn’t going to help anyone. 

Under the warm spray of the shower, Hwitaek scrubbed himself clean. He tried to keep it as cool and clinical as possible, absolutely not thinking about how intense last night had been, both with all three of them together, and then later, in the room...Hwitaek grimly jerked the shower dial toward COLD and finished washing, shaking the last of the fuzziness from his mind. Okay. They were all adults. Everybody was on board with...whatever was happening. And he was the only one who’d been hesitant at all. He got out and toweled himself off slowly, turning the thought over in his mind.

The issue wasn’t lack of attraction. _To either of them_ , his mind supplied. Lack of experience? Maybe. The brief relationships he’d had were pretty vanilla. He’d never even thought about...okay, well, he’d _thought_ about having sex with more than one person at once, but that was usually when he was watching porn or jerking off. It was fantasy, not reality. 

But last night, despite the dreamlike atmosphere, had been very real. 

One of the big issues was that they were coworkers and friends. He didn’t want to fuck up this project before it even had the chance to get off the ground, and he really, really didn’t want to fuck up his vibe with Dawnie in Pentagon’s rookie year. But they’d all known each other a long time, and they were all professionals. He couldn’t imagine...they’d all communicated through the process of making this project, almost aggressively so, making sure each one of them was comfortable. Couldn’t they do that now?

All that was left was the Gay Thing. Or the Bi Thing. Was he bisexual now? Was that how it worked? He was pretty sure you didn’t become bisexual by having sex with a man and a woman _at once_ , because there would probably be a lot more bisexuals out in the world. For some reason, this struck him as completely hilarious, and when Hyojong came to get him a few minutes later, Hwitaek was still bent over, wearing only a towel, giggling into his hands. 

“Uhhhh, hyung?” Hyojong said carefully, peeking his head around the door. “The stylists are uhhhh...are you okay?”

This set off a fresh round of giggles, but Hwitaek waved him off, wiping the tears out of his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, just let me get dressed.” 

“Ooookay,” Hyojong said, raising his eyebrows and giving him a little thumbs up. He closed the door on his way out. 

By the time Hwitaek got downstairs, the other two were already dressed and styled, talking quietly in a corner under one of the large umbrellas around the pool. Hwitaek accepted the director’s scolding with grace, internally chastising himself for being late. He moved as quickly as possible to get into his outfit for the day, another one with way more layers than necessary. 

While he was sitting as still as possible, letting the makeup artists dab foundation and blush all over his face, he watched the other two. They were cute together, even off-camera. Smiling and laughing and touching each other comfortably. It wasn’t flirty, except for how those two flirted like breathing, a subtle sensuality to everything they did. Hyuna leaned in to whisper in Hyojong’s ear and they both turned to look at him at the same time. Caught staring, he looked away, only to be scolded yet again for ruining the freckles they were carefully dotting on his cheeks. 

It was going to be a long day. 

The first set of shots was, of course, the three of them together. Hwitaek was worried, anticipating that it would be awkward, or that they’d all be staring at each other, but they fell into the rhythm of it quickly. Photoshoots looked sexy and carefree, but they were mostly uncomfortable and really boring. It was the opposite of last night, which had felt sensual and natural. This was angling his head toward Hyojong but also looking “At the tree, up -- no, the leaves, touching the sky? Look there. Hui-ssi, please don’t squint. And can you lean to the left?” So he was standing, sweating, squinting, sticking to his clothes, and developing a crick in his neck for hours. He hoped he looked broodingly sexy rather than damp and sore. 

Hyuna never seemed to get tired and didn’t treat either of them any differently. “Arms _up_ ,” she hissed, pinching his side.

“Ack,” he squeaked, raising his arms and his chin, trying to strike a manlier pose. 

A few minutes later: “I can hear your stomach, Dawnie.” Hyuna moved next to him, jostling Hwitaek out of place, and he heard Hyojong grunt in pain. “Focus,” she snapped. Hyojong mumbled something that Hwitaek couldn’t hear, but he assumed it was along the lines of “Yes, noona” because nobody was getting hit again.

But of course, she knew best, and their focus led to them finishing up far earlier than the staff had anticipated. There was a full lunch waiting for them and Hwitaek dug into the meat and rice like he was starving. He saw Hyojong off to the side, chugging water, his plate empty. 

As much as Hwitaek would like to never ever talk about last night, they needed to. And it was his job to bring it up.

“Hey,” he said softly, coming up behind Hyojong. He felt him stiffen, then relax back into his hug. “You ok?”

“Are _you_ ok?” Hyojong countered. “Hyung, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, uhh--”

“I’m okay,” Hwitaek said quickly, reassuring him. “Very okay.”

“This place is weird,” Hyojong said, and Hwitaek knew what he meant. He meant _we can pretend this never happened_ and _weird things happen overseas_ and _let’s blame it on the legal weed_.

Hwitaek hesitated before answering. “Hmmm,” he said, digging the sharp point of his chin into the part of Hyojong’s shoulder that always tensed up. “Good weird.”

“Yeah?” Hyojong turned to look at him, his eyebrows raised. He smiled again, and it looked like the smile he used on-camera when he wanted to look sexy. “I like good weird.” 

“That’s because you’re good weird,” Hwitaek said, poking him in the ribs. Hyojong laughed and batted him away, but he looked satisfied, content in a way he hadn’t been all day, Hwitaek had been so wrapped up in his own worries, he hadn’t noticed how tense Dawnie was. He didn’t like that he hadn’t seen it, but he was glad he’d fixed it. 

“Hui-ssi.” Hyuna came over to them. She’d already cleaned her face and put her hair up in a loose bun. Tendrils of red-orange hair had escaped from the sides and were trailing around her shoulders. Hwitaek wanted to brush them away, or bury his hands in her hair and pull it all down. He blinked. “Hui-yah,” she repeated, more snappishly. “Can I have a moment?”  
“Yeah, sure,” he said, and followed her to a bench on the far side of the pool, away from the staff. “What’s up?” A knot of anxiety began to build in his stomach. Had he messed something up? 

She looked him in the eye and clasped his hands. “I’m sorry,” she said, squeezing his hand a little. “I made you uncomfortable, and I apologize.” 

Oh. Oh, she was terrifying as hell, but she was so kind at the same time. She was looking at him expectantly, hesitant and a little fragile. She looked _sad_ , and that was the furthest thing from what he wanted. They’d taken his need for space as rejection, and...and suddenly all his fears and anxieties fell away in the face of one crystal clear thought: He wanted that to happen again. He didn’t want to walk away from this place and think _what if_ for the rest of his life.

“I liked it,” he blurted out, and felt his face grow so hot his eyes watered a little. He looked down, studying their clasped hands. “I liked it so much, don’t -- I want -- I was just --” He took a deep breath and tried to center himself. “You’re both just so _beautiful_ ,” he said, sounding more exasperated than he meant to.

She looked at him, shocked, then burst out laughing. “You’re beautiful too, silly.”

He choked out a little laugh and she hit him. “Idiot.” She leaned forward, her expression serious. “Now listen, I already talked to Hyojongie about this --” his heart beat faster, pounding in his ears, “-- and you guys really need to focus more on the body, ok? When the PD-nim says to look up, don’t just turn your head. You have to _rotate_ , see?” 

Hwitaek smiled and let her instructions wash over him in a soothing wave. It was good. They were good.

…….

That night, they opened the bottle of tequila. It wasn’t something they drank a lot of in Korea, but it felt like they should be having the full local experience or something. Privately, Hwitaek though nothing was going to be more of a local experience than the legal weed. Which he was never, ever doing again. It was really exciting at the time and also so not worth jeopardizing his career over.

But tequila? He liked tequila. It tasted sharp and sour, strong alcohol and something that reminded him of citrus. Their manager was out for the night, taking the local crew out for dinner. They’d been invited, but they all knew that none of the crew would really feel comfortable letting loose around a bunch of idols they were used to coddling. So Hyuna had made big eyes and said that they were really coming together as a group, manager-oppa, and could they maybe have some quiet time just the three of them? “We’re working on a song,” she said, almost shyly, her eyes cast down to the ground. 

When the crew and manager left, Hwitaek said, “We’re writing a song, huh?”

“You’re always writing a song,” she said, pulling out the bottle of tequila. “Don’t tell me you’re not working on anything.”

“I mean yeah, but you can’t just assume --”

“It’s a good song,” Hyojong said, holding out his hand for a shot glass. “Send it to noona and let her listen to it and she’ll tell you what sucks --”

Hyuna made an offended squawk but Hyojong ignored her, “-- and boom, we’re writing a song. I’ll write my own verses anyway, you know that.” He flopped down next to Hwitaek and knocked back the shot Hyuna had poured him. “Tequila?”

None of them had more than a few shots, each round coming slower and slower as the sense of anticipation grew heavier and heavier throughout the evening. The air felt charged and heavy, buzzing along Hwitaek’s skin. Every look between the three of them felt meaningful, like the next move -- the next look -- would push them over the edge into something else.

They ended up in Hyuna’s room again, somehow, all three of them back on the bed. Hwitaek thought it would be awkward, at first. He imagined them apologizing and bumping into each other and maybe sitting stiffly apartr. But it was natural, the way Hyuna flopped onto the bed, giggling, her eyes bright. Hyojong tried to get on the bed on his elbows and knees, overbalancing. He still had the glasses of tequila cradled in one hand, the lime wedges in another. “I think you need salt,” Hwitaek said, laughing, pulling the glasses away before they could spill. “That’s what they do in the movies.” 

“Yeah, but that sounds gross,” Hyojong said. “Licking salt?” He made a face. He landed next to Hyuna, obnoxiously graceful even when he was buzzed. “Here,” he said, holding the lime wedge next to her lips. “Suck.” Hwitaek could see that he was staring at her mouth, and suddenly the air in the room felt thicker, hotter. She was staring at him too, but right in his eyes, like she was trying to read his face. Hwitaek didn’t want to breathe too loud or move, in fear of interrupting them or breaking the moment. Hyuna smiled, slowly, her lips parting. He could see Hyojong shift slightly closer, angling himself toward her on the bed.

And then, unexpectedly, she turned toward Hwitaek. The focus of her attention was so surprising that he took a half-step backward into the table, rattling the glasses next to him. “The tequila comes first,” she said. “Then the lime.” She held out her hand to Hwitaek, gesturing impatiently. She was leaving it up to him, letting him make the next move. The world held, suspended for a moment, before he made his feet move forward, stumbling a little as he grabbed one of the glasses and moved toward the bed. 

Less gracefully than Hyojong, he lay on her other side, offering the glass. “You know what else I’ve seen people do?” she asked. He shook his head. “Body shots,” she said, trailing her finger down his neck. He shivered. “Take off your shirt?” Shirt. Right, of course. It was so hot right now. L.A. was hot in general, even in the winter, but this room was even warmer. His clothes felt heavy and chafing suddenly. Hwitaek was aware of all the points where the waistband of his jeans and the collar of his shirt and the seams on his sleeves dug into his body. Taking off his shirt sounded amazing, so he did it, pulling off both the button-down and his tee in one smooth motion. 

He laced his hands behind his head and got comfortable, settling into the pillow. “Go for it,” he said. 

“How come only she gets to do it?” Hyojong asked, pouting. It wasn’t cute. He looked annoying but hot, and Hwitaek had the urge to kiss that stupid look right off his face. He suppressed the urge -- except, wait, he could do that now, right? They were all probably about to do...something (his mind shied away from thinking about the mechanics, because this was going to be over really embarrassingly fast if he let himself think about it) and that meant he could do anything, as long as everyone was okay with it. 

Hwitaek pushed himself up on one elbow, leaning across a startled Hyuna, and pulled Hyojong in for a kiss. Hyojong made a little startled noise but quickly settled into the kiss, angling his mouth to kiss deeper, making soft whimpers in the back of his throat. Hwitaek heard another noise, a breathy gasp that meant Hyuna was watching them and liking it, oh god. A wave of arousal hit him and he shifted, trying to angle his lower body away from Hyuna, because she probably didn’t need to have his erection shoved into her side before she was ready for it. But that motion caused his arm to brush against her breasts and he felt her hard, tight nipples slide across his skin. He whimpered, his free hand tightening in the back of Hyojong’s hair. Fuck, this might be over too soon anyway. 

He felt Hyuna’s hands pressing against him, pushing them apart, and Hwitaek wondered for a terrified second if he’d done something wrong. Was he too forward? Had he misread the situation?? But no, she was easing him down with a look in her eye that would be utterly terrifying in any other circumstance. It was pretty terrifying in this situation too, but terrifying in an arousing way. 

Hwitaek was learning a lot about himself this week. 

 

“Shots,” she said, smiling. She looked over her shoulder at Hyojong. “And if you’re good, you can have a turn too.” She looked at Hwitaek thoughtfully. “I don’t trust you not to move,” she said, tapping her lips with her fingernail. “And I don’t want to ruin this shirt.” 

_Christ_.

Before Hwitaek’s mind could process what was happening, she pulled off her shirt to reveal that she was wearing only a thin camisole underneath and no bra. That image was going to haunt him forever, he knew it, and in the time it took him to have that thought, the camisole was gone, revealing her small, perfectly round breasts. “Fuck,” Hwitaek whispered, his mouth gone completely dry. 

“Or these,” she said, yanking off the tiny sleep shorts she’d been wearing. Before he could process what was happening, she bent over him and poured a little tequila into his belly button. It wasn’t cold, but he flinched anyway. The tequila started to dribble down his side in one fat, rolling drop that he could feel all the way across his skin. “Stay still,” Hyuna admonished, as she bent down and licked the rest off of him, the flat of her tongue swiping across his abs. It was hot and cold at the same time, the heat of her mouth contrasting with the cooling sensation of the alcohol. It froze his nerves, sending goosebumps up, down, and across his chest. He arched his back as she licked up his body, those perfect breasts dragging along the smooth expanse of his skin. He was on fire. He was going to die. He opened his eyes in time to see her turn her head toward Hyojong, who was still holding the lime. She sucked it, her lips catching against the pads of his fingers. Hyojong’s lower lip was caught between his teeth and sweat had beaded across his forehead. He no longer looked stupid or annoying, he looked like...well, maybe like what their fans saw when they watched him onstage. 

Hyojong leaned forward and kissed Hyuna, which was so startling it almost surprised Hwitaek out of his arousal. He wasn’t sure why it was so surprising but it was, and it seemed to take her aback as well, her lips opening in a little gasp as she let him in. They kissed like they’d done it before, like old friends or lovers, and Hwitaek couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of jealousy. After a moment, they were smiling into each others’ mouths and giggling. “Don’t make it weird,” was all she said, booping Hyojong on the nose before turning her attention back to Hwitaek. 

“Are you together?” he blurted out. He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but the need to know overcame everything else in his brain. 

“Us?” Hyojong stretched out beside him again, his head propped up on his hand. “Nah. We’ve blown off steam before a few times, but we’re pretty much friends.” 

“Oh.” He was a little confused as to why all of this was happening if they were just friends, but before he could really examine what “just friends” meant in the context of what they were doing, Hwitaek had the thought, pushing its way through the haze of lust and the receding buzz of tequila, that he didn’t just want to lie here and be passive. He wasn’t a virgin and he wasn’t a kid, and he had _needs_ , goddamn it. He lifted his hips and took off his pants and boxers, causing Hyojong to mutter “Fuck yeah.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hyojong scrambling out of his own clothes.

He reached up and did what he’d wanted to do earlier, raking his fingers into Hyuna’s hair, running his nails along her scalp while she arched her back and moaned. He could see the goosebumps rippling across her arms in the dim light and thought _I did that_. For some reason, that was more arousing than seeing her naked. He _did that_. And he wanted to do more. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, pulling her closer. Her hair fell down around them, tickling along his shoulders. He didn’t want to be a horny asshole, but he couldn’t help grinding up on her thigh a little. He whimpered and she shuddered, biting her lip. “Yeah,” she said. “Of course.”

Her hair was in the way, tangling in his hands as he tried to reach her face, and sticking slightly to the remnants of her lip gloss. Hwitaek had a moment where his bravado left him and he got stuck in the awkward logistics of sex, always the weirdest part, when suddenly her hair was gone, pulled back from her eyes, and there was Hyojong behind her, the length of her hair wrapped gently around his hand. He looked taller, more powerful, like he could just yank her back, and something about that image made his vision go a little fuzzy. He lunged up and caught her mouth. Her lips were so soft beneath his, tasting like tequila and the sharp tang of lime. She kissed less aggressively than he’d expected, more sweet and soft, and the contrast between her kissing and her words and how her body was still covering his made him shake. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tuck her against him. He wanted to flip her over and thrust inside her. He wanted all of it. 

All of it. 

Hwitaek was the one to break the kiss, reluctantly giving her one last peck on the mouth before looking over her shoulder at Hyojong. “Now you,” he said, and Hyuna moaned into his neck, writhing against him. She had repositioned herself so she was straddling one of his thighs and she ground down hard, so he could feel the wetness through her panties. “Fuck,” he whispered. 

Hyojong moved back to where he had been, along Hwitaek’s side, and they reached for each other simultaneously, fumbling in desperation. He grabbed the back of Hyojong’s neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss, then pulled back, panting against his mouth. It was strange that this was already familiar, the taste of him, after only one night together. Was that last night? It seemed so long ago. “I want to touch you,” he said, and he could feel Hyuna slide off of him to lie along his other side. “Do it,” she whispered, right before biting his ear. “Touch him.”

Hwitaek looked at Hyojong, trying to get a gauge on how he was feeling. He looked hot, both literally and figuratively, his cheeks all flushed, his lips swollen and red in the pale light. He was staring at Hwitaek’s mouth, and then his gaze flicked up. “Yeah,” he said. “I want it.” He reached up and trailed his finger down Hwitaek’s breastbone. “I want to touch you too.” 

That was fine. Great. Amazing, as long as Hwitaek could manage that without coming in three seconds like a teenager. He placed his hand on Hyojong’s shoulder, palm flat, then slid it down to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the pace of his breathing. The room was so still and silent and his skin felt so sensitized that he swore he could feel Hyojong’s heart pounding, the thrum of blood in his veins. Hwitaek had never felt closer to another human being than he did with the two of them in that moment, Hyuna plastered against his back, both of them breathing almost completely in sync, his hand on Hyojong’s chest. 

It was magical. He didn’t want to break the spell.

Hyojong moved first, slowly reaching up to circle his hand around Hwitaek’s wrist, pulling his hand down his chest. “I thought you were going to touch me,” he said. Brat. 

“I thought I was touching you,” Hwitaek said, because honestly, two could play at that game. 

Hyojong let go of his wrist and put his hands around Hwitaek’s waist instead, letting his thumbs rest in the hollows of his hips. Hwitaek shuddered and closed his eyes. 

“I can’t see,” Hyuna whispered in his ear. Her hands trailed down his back, creating a river of goosebumps. He shivered and whined, trying to jerk his hips, but Hyojong held him in place. “What’s he doing to you?” she asked, and he could hear the laughter in her voice. 

“Ngh,” Hwitaek managed to get out. He was so hard, his dick curving up against his stomach, and he just wanted to be _touched_ , to _feel_ \-- he had been teasing Hyojong just a minute before, but he couldn’t stand the emptiness of his own hands. They felt cold and tingling, clutching at nothing, so he put one hand out to slide down Hyojong’s stomach, sweat-slick already, wisps of hair starting to grow in after his most recent wax. He reached his other hand back and grabbed the back of Hyuna’s thigh, marveling at the strength of her muscles and the perfect shape of her under his hands. 

She wiggled, prying his legs apart with her knee until she could shove her own leg between his. As she rocked against him, he moved forward and his hand slipped down Hyojong’s front and his thumb brushed -- oh. 

Hyojong was breathing hard and fast against him, their foreheads pressed together, and Hwitaek finally, finally got the courage to move his hand just a little lower, feeling the head of Hyojong’s dick brush against his knuckles, his palm; he wrapped his hand around the length of him, eliciting a choked-off moan. Hyuna gasped and ground against him and Hwitaek cursed under his breath. It was so much like the other night, listening to those little sounds, but this time he was really doing it, he had another guy’s dick in his hand, hot and hard, smooth and growing slick. It was incredible. The angle was really awkward, but Hwitaek got a good rhythm going eventually, chasing those little noises and swallowing them down under messy, open-mouthed kisses.

Hyuna moaned in his ear and squeezed her thighs around his leg. He didn’t want to ignore her, but he didn’t want to stop what he was doing, either. He wanted someone, anyone, to touch him. Hyuna squeezed against him again and he shuddered, his hand faltering. 

“I want to touch,” Hyojong said, wriggling his hand between them. He couldn’t get to where he needed to be, they were all too close and tangled together, so Hwitaek shifted back, driving his leg harder into Hyuna until she moaned again. He felt her nails clutch into his back, the sharp points almost breaking through his skin, and he whimpered.

The she was gone, his back suddenly cold in her absence. He let go of Hyojong and rolled to his other side, to see -- oh _god_ , he never ever -- he’d had a dream like this once? But nothing in his dreams or his imagination could have prepared him for Kim Hyuna, her hair tangled across the pillow, her chest and forehead shining with perspiration, her lips bitten and red, as she slid her perfectly manicured hands into her panties, arching slightly off the bed in ecstasy. 

“Fuck,” Hyojong breathed next to him.

“Fuck is right,” Hwitaek mumbled. Because oh my god, this was happening. He was so aroused he had no idea what to do with it. He felt like he was going to fly into a million tiny pieces. 

“Neither of you are fucking me,” Hyuna said, not opening her eyes. Her hand moved and her whole body tensed, her breasts bouncing slightly with the movement. “We don’t have condoms, and I’m not -- _oh_ ,” her heels dug into the mattress. “Touch each other,” she said, a little breathless. “ _Now_.”

Hwitaek didn’t have to be told twice. He pushed Hyojong down onto the bed, next to Hyuna. Hyojong dragged his hands up Hwitaek’s thighs as he straddled him. His hands stopped just short of where Hwitaek really wanted them, maddeningly. “Please,” Hwitaek begged. 

“Yeah,” Hyojong said, and sat up, not even using his hands. That guy had obnoxiously powerful abs and was stupidly flexible, but Hwitaek was only able to have a moment of jealousy before Hyojong caught him in another kiss and grabbed his dick at the same time, which meant that the kiss was just him moaning desperately into Hyojong’s mouth. He tried to pull it together, tried to reciprocate, but he ended up just kind of falling on Hyojong and rutting against him, into his fist, the head of his cock sliding across his stomach. 

Next to them, Hyuna whined, her breath coming in rhythmic pants. He looked over just in time to see her tense up, her chest heaving, before she shuddered and ground down on her own hand with a low moan. Hwitaek’s dick jerked, spurting a little precome onto Hyojong’s hand. He closed his eyes and pulled back a little, trying not to come that second. A light touch on his ass made him open his eyes. 

Hyuna slid her hand up the curve of his ass and pushed down on his lower back. “I want to watch you both come before I come again,” she said, scraping her nails against his spine. _Christ._

After that, it was all kind of a blur. Hwitaek had been too turned on for too long. He tightened his grip on Hyojong, who was whining and circling his hips under him. Hyojong titled his head, baring his neck, and Hwitaek knew he couldn’t really make a mark, but he leaned down and bit as hard as he dared, all while grinding down as hard as he could, and that was it, Hyojong made a strangled noise and his dick got harder, longer, hotter in his hand until he was coming in hot spurts all over both of them. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna, fuck, fuck,” Hwitaek chanted. Hyojong’s hand had relaxed as he came and suddenly the friction wasn’t quite enough, the tightening sensation building inside him with nowhere to go. “I need,” he gasped, desperate for something, anything to put him over the edge. Suddenly, Hyuna grabbed him by the back of his head, pulling him into a kiss as she smacked him on the ass, hard, almost on the edge of too painful. But that sensation, the sharp sting and burn combined with the slippery mess of Hyojong’s come all over both of their hands, and that sweet cherry taste of Hyuna’s lip gloss -- it was enough to send him over the edge. The tightening in his lower belly snapped and he came, wave after wave of it hitting him. He gasped into Hyuna’s mouth, his breath held for just a little too long. It almost felt like she was breathing for him, in that moment, his whole body locked in pleasure. 

He rolled off Hyojong, knocking clumsily into Hyuna. “Noona,” he slurred, trying to regain control of his limbs. 

“Yeah,” she said, kissing his forehead. “You did so good.” She pushed on his shoulders, steering hom down. “Now just a little more.”

Somehow, in all the chaos, her underwear had gone missing, and she was bare and wet and ready for him. He’d never done this before, but this was a week of firsts, and he was too tired and wrung-out to be nervous about it. He just went for it, pressing his tongue flat against her and licking broad stripes up and down. Maybe there was a way to get fancy with this, but whatever he was doing seemed to work, from the way her thighs were squeezing his shoulders and her hand stayed clenched in his hair. He could feel the bed shift. Hyojong was doing something, but he couldnt see what, only heard Hyuna whimper with pleasure. She gripped his hair and _pulled _until his eyes watered, spurring him to lick faster and harder, circling his tongue in the places that made her moans get louder.__

__“Please,” she said, and he didn’t know what more she wanted, or what she was asking for. She raised her hips, almost knocking him in the chin. “ _More_ ,” she moaned, and Hwitaek licked in that one spot again, then slipped his finger inside her. She clenched around him and made a muffled shriek, her thighs shaking against him. He tried another finger, circled his tongue one more time, and she was clenching around him, sour-sweet into his mouth, practically crushing him between her legs. _ _

__He didn’t pull himself up to the pillow. He couldn’t. Hwitaek just flopped over, curled in one corner of the bed._ _

__“Noona, you killed him,” Hyojong said, from somewhere above his head._ _

__“I’m dead,” Hwitaek said, not lifting his head from the blanket. “It’s very sad.”_ _

__“Crybaby,” Hyuna said, and kicked him. “Get up here.”_ _

__Hyojong grabbed his hand and pulled him up. Stumbling, they somehow landed on either side of Hyuna, curled into each other. “I’m glad we’re in a group together,” Hwitaek mumbled._ _

__Hyuna turned to look at him, slightly incredulous, and her shoulders started shaking with laughter. “Really?” she said, giggling. “I couldn’t tell.”_ _

__“Everyone needs to sssshhhhh so I can sleep,” Hyojong said, closing his eyes._ _

__“Not here you’re not,” Hyuna said. “I’m setting the alarm. You get an hour nap.” She pointed at the table and Hwitaek fumbled for her phone. She squinted at it, set the alarm, then threw it back on the bed. Snuggling down, she kissed both of them on the head. “I’m glad we’re in a group together too.”_ _

__

__…………..  
When they got back to Seoul to shoot the rest of the MV, the production team sat them down for a quick meeting. “We’ve discussed that this is a more mature concept,” the lead director said. “We’re going to have the drinking, smoking,” he nodded at Hyojong. _ _

__“I’m going to have to kill someone,” Hyuna said, sounding distressed. Hwitaek knew the idea of it was freaking her out a little._ _

__“And I was thinking, we already have the scene where Hyuna kisses Hyojong, but what about a scene with the three of you together?” He slid the script toward them. “See? We can’t have you all naked, the censors would flip, but maybe like this?”_ _

__Hwitaek looked over at Hyuna, who had taken her copy of the script and was holding it like it was something precious and fragile. Hyojong just looked shocked. Hwitaek looked down at the script and started laughing._ _

__“Hyungnim, why am I always the one clothed up to my neck?” he complained, and he saw the other two visibly relax out of the corner of his eyes. “I’m in bed with -- a robe? Pajamas? Do you know how many pull-ups I’ve been doing?” He sighed loudly._ _

__“Not that many,” Hyojong laughed. “Seriously, it’s a little sad.”_ _

__“I have amazing shoulders,” Hwitaek sniffed, exaggerating his distress._ _

__“We believe you, Hui-yah,” Hyuna said, winking at Hyojong. “We believe you.”_ _


End file.
